


And The Day After That

by edenbound



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, M/M, sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-03
Updated: 2010-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenbound/pseuds/edenbound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every morning he's afraid he's going to wake up, and he does, but everything's still how he left it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And The Day After That

It's stupidly normal and every day he thinks he's going to wake up. Every morning he does wake up, but he's still in their stupid little house and Castiel is there beside him, turning off the stupid alarm clock, looking at him with stupid affection. Every morning he claims a kiss, ignoring morning breath for the sweetness of it, and then he gets out of bed and curses the morning and the cold and Castiel, just in case anyone or anything thought he was too happy and it needed to be taken away.

Every morning he goes to brush his teeth and every morning he can hear Castiel moving around in the kitchen. Every morning he goes into the kitchen and finds Castiel there, offering a cup of coffee just at the crucial moment. Every morning he burns his tongue on it and reluctantly dumps milk in, because there isn't time to let it cool properly.

Every morning he checks Castiel's tie is straight, and every morning he thinks it's ridiculous and too domestic and girly, something more like a nightmare than a dream come true, and every morning he feels just a little dizzy when Castiel kisses him goodbye, dry and precise and careful -- dizzy with the knowledge that they did this yesterday and they'll do it again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.

"Have a good day," Castiel always says, though his caress varies -- Dean's cheek, perhaps, or his fingers brushing over his neck, or one quick last minute hug, one-armed.

"You too," Dean says, and watches him go, and then heads out himself. Sometimes, these days, the Impala stutters a little and doesn't want to start, and he always promises himself that he'll give her a going over, and he always forgets.

Then there's the evening, or late afternoon anyway. Coming home and finding that Castiel's already there. When the evenings are getting darker, late in the year, there'll be a light on in the kitchen, where Dean can see. He doesn't ask, but he suspects Castiel views it as something like a light to guide him home, to reassure him that he arrived home and safe.

Every evening he can walk into his house, his home, and feel the sanctuary of it, the calm, and know that nothing has got in that shouldn't be there, that he'll walk into the next room and see Castiel there, reading his paper, tie now loosened, jacket off -- for all the world as if he's been a human all this time, and always knew about things like this.

There's a kiss, always, sometimes more than one, and sometimes that's when they get undressed and have each other -- and Dean never thought that would be normal, but it is, having just one person all the time, knowing them so completely it's like they're a second self, how there's a scar here and how a bite just here will always make them moan. It's normal and then it isn't, because he knows this isn't everything, that once they made love on a battlefield, when the whole world was a battlefield, never knowing when it'd end. It's normal but it's still new, and he's grateful every time.

Evenings, there'll be dinner, and then maybe Sam will come round, and there'll be beers and they'll watch whatever there is to watch. A game, if there's one on, or trashy horror. Dean feels full of stupid affection when he sits there like that, Castiel's hand perhaps cupped over his knee, Castiel warm and lax against him, and Sam on the other side, not touching, but within reach.

If Sam doesn't come round, Dean watches television and sometimes Castiel reads. He started with non-fiction, but then one day Dean realised that Cas was reading David Copperfield, or something like that, and it just went on from there and he's never going to stop teasing Castiel for the time he caught him reading Twilight, _ever_.

There's bed, later, and sometimes it's then that they fuck. Sometimes they've fucked already but they do it again, peeling back clothes to find skin already marked and touched, claiming it all over again.

Stupidly normal how then they'll climb out of bed again to clean their teeth. How Castiel uses mouthwash, especially if he's sucked Dean off, because he'll never complain but he doesn't much like the taste of come. They'll stand there in front of the sink, elbows just touching, and it never stops filling Dean with content, because it's stupidly normal and it's theirs and they won it and they never have to fight again if they don't want to.

He'd fight again, do it all over, to keep this, of course. But he doesn't have to.

Castiel turns to him, once they've brushed their teeth, leans in and up, kisses him careful and soft. "We should sleep," he'll say, and sometimes Dean just has to pull him closer and do it all over again, wreck him with pleasure, just because he can.

At first, he barely slept, so afraid that the moment of waking would come. Now, though, he'll fall asleep all tangled up with Cas. It takes maybe five minutes, if that.


End file.
